


Where the Chalk White Arrows Go

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AmeriHawk, Avengers Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Stealth reference to another canon, Tony POV, feeeeeeeeeeeelings, nightmare aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23792257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Tony is in no position to judge other people’s middle of the night coping techniques.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Where the Chalk White Arrows Go

“Do I even want to know where you got cotton candy at three in the morning?”

It may be worth noting that when Tony asks Peter this he’s hanging upside down from the ceiling watching Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers.

Peter, that is. Tony has both feet firmly in the ground, thank you very much Ms. Potts, soon to still be Ms. Potts, but married to Tony. 

And it’s not like he expected her to take his name; she’s already done more with it than he ever has. 

All of which is not the point, the point is that it’s the middle of the night and his protege is hanging from the ceiling eating circus—

“Barton.”

“Got it in one, Mr. Stark. Hey,” he yells after Tony, “Can you see if he’ll do grape next?”

“Go to sleep, kid; I promised Aunt Mae, pre-approved shenanigans only.”

When he gets there the kitchen is…not on fire?

Well, that’s weird. 

If Clint’s cooking then by definition the kitchen becomes a disaster area, but there’s no one here.

“Where the hell is Hawkeye?”

“Lab 23.”

“MOTHER WHAT THE!! Bruce! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing sneaking around? Do I need to bell you like Natasha?”

“I called your name twi— wait, did you really give Natasha a bell?”

“Of course not. I’m a big fan of this thing all the cool kids are doing called ‘breathing’.”

“Hey, fellas. Clint’s down in lab 23 making cotton candy if you’re interested?” Steve has a paper cone with a cloud of blue bigger than his head.

Which is… something something Steve has a big head. He’ll come up with a joke later; as it is he’s been up for, he checks his watch, a little over two days, he can forgive himself, this time.

“What are you doing up? Don’t you have to run in two hours?”

“Clint couldn’t sleep.”

“And so he decided to break into the labs and make cotton candy?”

Tony still isn’t sure how the two are connected. 

Steve shrugs and finishes eating his cotton candy in one big mouthful. It stains his lips a neon shade that would clash with the uniform, if he were wearing it instead of his old man bathrobe. 

And yes, Tony has one just like it, but on him it’s a smoking jacket and it’s much more… dignified. 

Though it could be the mismatched bunny slippers, one white and one brown. 

Which means Barton’s wearing a matching mismatched pair.

All of which adds up to Barton having nightmares.

Steve tosses the empty rolled paper away and starts digging through the draws, eventually saying, “Ha! Found ya, ya little bastard.”

Nightmares _again_ , it would appear. If Barton isn’t sleeping enough that Steve’s feeling it, they must be getting pretty bad.

Steve triumphantly holds aloft a half gone roll of Life Savers like it’s Excalibur.

“I’m going to take these down to Clint and I’m telling him that’s the last of the hard candy in the tower and you three,” he points at Bruce and Tony and the ceiling, “Are going to back me up.”

“Of course, Captain,” because the stupid AI is always on Steve’s side. 

Whatever. 

Steve leads them out of the kitchen and through the common room, where Tony waves the TV off, “Bed, Pete. Now. Or... No more sleepovers.”

“Fine, I’ve seen that one anyway.”

Peter backflips down and joins them in the elevator, getting off on the floor he currently shares with Natasha; there’s nowhere safer in the building for Peter and as an added bonus: all the spider jokes. 

Speaking of, Peter’s actually wearing Spider-Man pajamas.

Come to think of it, Barton got him them last Christmas eve. He had gotten all of them pajamas in their own merch and insisted they wear them for ‘family photos’ when opening gifts the next morning. 

When they get to the lab, it’s nearly silent except for a soft whirring noise. Towards the back one of Tony’s ‘junk’ boxes spread out over the table. From it, Clint has cobbled together a monstrosity of a machine, which is where the whirring is coming from. 

Barton is face down on the bench, his eyes pressed into his elbow. He’s wearing Cap’s pajamas, blue sleep pants and a hooded shirt mocked up to look like Steve’s ‘Press Tour’ uniform; he has the hood up and the little wings are sticking up. 

It would be adorable if it weren’t for the drool. 

Okay, fine. Barton’s adorable even with the drool. 

Steve puts his finger to his lips and glares at everyone. 

The effect is only slightly undermined by his bright blue lips.

Steve reaches over Barton and flips a switch and the whirring winds its way down. Steve shoos Bruce and Tony out as he gathers Barton into his arms; Bruce lets the three of them get ahead and catches the light before heading back to his own lab.

Barton’s head is tucked into Steve’s neck and he mumbles something only Steve can hear as the elevator doors open on their floor; he replies, “You sure did, sugar.”

This had all started with Tony wanting a cup of coffee, but now, all he wants is his bed and maybe some Pepper cuddles. 

As the door closes, Tony hears, “I promise, Clint, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tony hums ‘Entry of the Gladiators’ as the elevator continues up to the penthouse. 

He hopes his Iron Man pajamas are clean.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Shel Silverstein poem, Where the Sidewalks Ends
> 
> There is a place where the sidewalk ends  
> And before the street begins,  
> And there the grass grows soft and white,  
> And there the sun burns crimson bright,  
> And there the moon-bird rests from his flight  
> To cool in the peppermint wind. 
> 
> Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black  
> And the dark street winds and bends. 
> 
> Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow  
> We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,  
> And watch where the chalk-white arrows go  
> To the place where the sidewalk ends. 
> 
> Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,  
> And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,  
> For the children, they mark, and the children, they know  
> The place where the sidewalk ends.


End file.
